Cassie POV:
Ethan emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, after Kiera had finally left, her car pulling away with a triumphant growl. He looked sheepish, running a hand through his hair. "Cassie? Are you still in there?" he called out, his voice tentative.
I opened the door, my face carefully neutral. "Yes, Ethan. I'm here."
He fidgeted. "Look, about Kiera... and what she said earlier..." He started, obviously scrambling for an explanation for the "pregnancy."
"It's fine," I interrupted, my voice devoid of emotion. "It's all fine. I understand." I didn't. Not really. But I wasn't going to let him spin any more lies.
He seemed to accept that, surprisingly easily. He nodded, a hint of relief washing over his face. "Good. Look, I brought something back with me from the house. I think you'll appreciate it." He held up a large, glossy photo print. It was a "mock-up" he had done for Kiera. A staged photo of them, Kiera in a flowing white dress, Ethan in a sharp suit, standing hand-in-hand in front of, what could only be, our dream house. It was a bridal portrait, clear as day, for a wedding that hadn't happened yet. Or maybe, for a wedding that had already secretly occurred in his mind.
My breath hitched. The print felt like a physical blow, a crude visual of their shared future, plastered right in front of me.
My phone, lying face-down on the nightstand, suddenly lit up. It was a video call. Kiera. Her face, flushed with excitement, filled the screen. "Ethan, darling! I just left, but I had to call! Did you show Cassie the photos? Aren't they divine? The photographer did such a marvelous job making us look like a real couple, didn't he?" Her voice was saccharine sweet, dripping with malice. She giggled, then blew a kiss to the phone. "See you tomorrow, love!"
Ethan, caught off guard, fumbled with the phone, his face paling slightly as he saw my eyes fixed on the screen. His brief moment of embarrassment was almost comical.
"Beautiful," I said, my voice barely a whisper, as the call ended. I looked from the photo in his hand to his flushed face. "Truly beautiful, Ethan. You two make quite a pair." The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth. He was showcasing his betrayal, expecting me to admire the artistry.
He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Cassie, I can explain. It's... it's just for Kiera's peace of mind. A way to help her cope with Mark's loss. You know, to give her something to look forward to." He sounded desperate, tripping over his words.
"To look forward to?" I asked, my voice chillingly calm. "A pregnant woman, looking forward to her new life in the house paid for by her 'friend's' fiancée, who is also her child's father? Is that it, Ethan?"
He flinched, his eyes wide. "Cassie, no. You've got it all wrong. The baby isn't mine. It's... it's Mark's. Kiera just wants to raise the child in a stable environment. And she needed someone to step up."
I stared at him, a coldness spreading through me. He was still trying to spin it, still trying to make me believe his noble intentions. But the photo, the champagne toast, the secret calls, the pregnancy-it all painted a different picture.
Kiera, who had been lingering just outside the apartment door, probably listening, suddenly burst back in. Her face was contorted in a mask of anger. "What did you just say, Cassie? Are you trying to imply something about my baby? About Mark's memory?" She glared at me, her eyes flashing. "Don't you dare accuse Ethan of anything! He's been nothing but a saint to me and my son!"
"A saint who empties his fiancée's joint account behind her back?" I shot back, my voice gaining strength. "A saint who then expects her to design the house he bought with her money? A saint who lets you parade around pretending to be pregnant with his child?"
"He's mine!" Kiera shrieked, her voice shrill. "He's always been mine! You were just a placeholder, Cassie! A temporary distraction!" She lunged forward, her hand reaching for my arm, her eyes wild.
I stepped back, recoiling from her touch. "Don't you dare lay a hand on me," I warned, my voice low and dangerous.
She stopped short, then her eyes flickered. A cunning, calculating look crossed her face. Her expression shifted in an instant, from rage to pain. She gasped, a dramatic, drawn-out sound, and crumpled to the floor, clutching her stomach. "Oh! My baby! Cassie pushed me! She's trying to hurt my baby!" she screamed, her voice piercing.
Ethan, without a moment's hesitation, rushed to Kiera's side, ignoring me completely. "Kiera! What happened? Are you okay? Call 911!" he yelled, his voice laced with fear and concern, his eyes blazing at me with accusation.
I stood frozen, watching the scene unfold, my heart turning to ice. He didn't even ask. He didn't even wonder. He simply believed her, instantly. He always believed her. My voice, my truth, my years of loyalty-they meant nothing compared to Kiera's fabricated distress.
The profound injustice of it all hit me with the force of a physical blow. He had chosen. He had always chosen her. And he was choosing her now, over me, over logic, over everything we had once shared.
"Cassie!" he spat, his voice filled with venom. "How could you? She's pregnant! What kind of monster are you?"
My breath caught in my throat. Monster. That's what I was to him. And Kiera, the master puppeteer, smiled faintly up at him from the floor, her eyes meeting mine in a silent, victorious challenge.
The betrayal had reached its grotesque climax.
